Low
Trust

THE REVIEW

There is magic in this album.

There are all your most hidden memories, all the facets only you know, everything you are ashamed of. Trust gently cradles, giving emotions with brushed and whispered melodies that, listen after listen, become your truths. Low have surpassed pop songs, slow-core, the most unassuming indie in their own way, that is, with class. Here, however, they touch the depths of their soul. They are tinged with colorful mysticism, the splendid Tonight would be enough to understand their absolute inspiration, with those echoes of My Bloody Valentine in mind like never before, or The Lamb, a sweet and trembling blues where drops of piano become water to quench your thirst, where intensity becomes blinding only to then close again in a whisper... and then off on the carousel of Last Snowstorm of the Year, two minutes and a little more of a waltz that slides into the mirror of our home. Absolutely aware of their abilities and consequently free from any compromise, the Minnesota trio (Mimi Parker, Alan Sparhawk, Zak Sally) expand themselves to the point of stasis, to a point of no return where everything is motionless, and here, in complete darkness, they begin to awaken. Every minimal chord, every melodic change, every brushed string consequently acquires enormous value, amazing us with the simple beauty that all the songs have (how not to be struck by the crescendo of Little Argument With Myself?). Occasionally, pop/folk moments resurface like La La La Song or In The Drugs, little soul chocolates that intoxicate and warm even the most voracious hearts, although the most moving moment is Shots and Ladders... like holding your breath without drowning in a cup of sky. Describing Trust with a genre makes no sense, one can only surrender to it.

Could you describe the beauty emanating from a child’s smile?